


The Ghost of Hamish Silvers

by sauciemel



Series: My One Shots [10]
Category: Nans Xmas Carol
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 15:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12256863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sauciemel/pseuds/sauciemel
Summary: This is based on the Nan’s Xmas Carol.. The man who became The Ghost of Christmas Present





	The Ghost of Hamish Silvers

**Author's Note:**

> This story is one I wrote way back in 2011 so any typos or mis spelling is down to it not being beta read. I am moving my stories over from Live Journal to here.

**AV in part**  
  
It was a normal boring Friday morning. It was a warm June day. The man who lay in the bed shifted as the ray of the sun beamed through his curtain.  
  
“Och I thought I’d closed them.” he moaned as he pulled the pillow over his face.   
  
“Hamish!!” came a yell from downstairs.  
  
“Aye.”  
  
“Get your lazy behind up.”  
  
“Aye.” he turned and lay on his stomach. He turned his head and looked at the clock. 7.30 am. “Och mum, its tae early.” he mumbled.  
  
“Hamish Silvers I am giving yae one last warning before I come up there.”  
  
“Ok Mum am up.” he shoved the sheet from his body and sat up. He placed a hand in his hair. It was all matted up. “Great, that’s all a need a bad hair day.” he got up and shoved on his black jeans, going commando as he always did. Then he went bare foot and bare chested downstairs.  
  
\---  
  
“Och look, the loch ness monster has surfaced.”   
  
“Funny Mum, its only half past seven.”  
  
“Yes, but incase yae have forgotten yae have an interview  
  
“Och I forgot aboot that.”  
  
“Aye well I havnae. Now eat.”  
  
\---  
  
After breakfast Hamish went back upstairs to shower and get dressed. He tamed his hair. He dressed in his black skinny jeans, he pulled out his best Armani jacket, it was like a an old fashioned soldiers jacket but black, cut to fit him like a glove and red trim. He then pulled out a light grey vest, a lighter grey shirt and a black waist coat to top it off. He looked in the mirror. He loved his look. It was like a rock star and a fashion icon too. He finished his outfit off with a pair of Gucci boots and a spray of Paul Smith Summer his favourite fragrance. He slid on his rings and his wrist band and watch and the grabbed his keys and mobile and headed back down stairs.  
  
“What the frigging hell are yae wearing?” his mother yelled.  
  
“My best clothes.” he retorted back.  
  
“Those, yae look like well a Goth.”  
  
“Oi, don’t diss the clobber. These cost mae and arm and a leg I’ll have yae ken.”  
  
Then his sister came down. “Is that Paul Smith Summer I smell?”  
  
“Aye it is Janey.”  
  
“Mmmm nice little bro.” she went to ruffle his hair and stopped. “Oh it’s the interview today isn’t it?”  
  
“Aye and if yae dinnae leave now…”  
  
“Ok I am going. See yae all tonight.” he kissed his sister and hugged his mum.  
  
\---  
  
Hamish Silvers never made it to that interview. The bus he had been travelling on crashed. Hamish and three others were killed out right.  
  
Hamish opened his eyes and found himself lying on a bed. He saw a beautiful blond haired woman, wearing a white gown. “Och my heed. Where am I ?”  
  
“You are in heaven.”  
  
“Yae what?”  
  
“You are in heaven Hamish.”  
  
“How’d I get up here then?”  
  
“There was an accident. The bus you were on crashed.”  
  
Hamish looked down at himself. “But I feel ok.”  
  
“You are dead, but we have a job for you. You were such a loving and giving chap on Earth, but gave or took no crap.”   
  
He raised and eyebrow. “Nae I didnae.”  
  
“Well in the job we have for you, you will need it.”  
  
“Ok, so I am really deed?”  
  
“You are.”  
  
“Can a see mae family?”  
  
The girl waved her hand.  
  
\---  
  
Hamish found himself stood beside a tree. The woman was with him.   
  
“Where are we?”  
  
“Your funeral.”  
  
He looked over, his mum and sister were crying and hugging each other.   
  
“I’ll miss yae my wee boy.” his mum said as she threw a handful of dirt in the grave.   
  
“Sleep well little bro.” his sister said.  
  
“I am really deed?”  
  
The woman nodded. “Come with me.”  
  
The woman waved her hand and they were back in the same room. “You are a kind hearted soul, not many get the chance to do this job. Our last one, well he had been doing it for a millennia and wanted a change of scene.”  
  
“A millennia? That’s a lang time.”  
  
“I know, are you familiar with the story a Christmas carol?”  
  
“Aye, Charles Dickens, ghosts and all that.”  
  
“Well, we need a ghost of Christmas present.”  
  
“Och, is this fer real?”  
  
“Yes, we have had our eye on a Joan Taylor for a while now. She needs to be shown the error of her ways.”  
  
“Ok, but what dae I need tae do?”  
  
\---  
  
The woman gave Hamish a run down on things. He had twenty four hours training and was ready.   
  
“You will be fine, just be yourself Hamish. Oh and one thing.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“She is a bit of an old bat. So be careful.”  
  
So Hamish walked into a kitchen. “Mmmm I fancy a mushroom risotto.” then his phone rang..  
  
 ***********************************************************************  
  
The next part we all know, but I thought I would put it in, this is in aid of comic relief 2011 - DO SOMETHING FUNNY FOR MONEY  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
The Ghostbusters Theme plays In bursts the ghost of Christmas Present  
  
“Makes mae laugh every time. Hello, Ghost of Christmas Present.” Hamish answers his phone  
  
“That’s all I need, innit - a Scotch ghost with a comedy ringtone” Nan says  
  
“Oh, hiya. No, I’m just in the middle of a wee job. Can I call you back? OK, let’s get started. Now, have you got any of they porcini mushrooms? Because I see you have a wee tin of the button variety, but they’ve no’ got the same zip.”  
  
“Oh, give me strength!” Nan rolls her eyes   
  
“I’ve got a wee risotto on the go. We shouldn’t travel on an empty stomach. So, porcini mushrooms?”  
  
“Yes, Love. They’ll be in me fridge, next to me Chinese water spinach.”   
  
“Fantastic. I don’t see any Chinese water spinach.” Hamish says as he pops his head out of the kitchen  
  
“No, Darling? D’you know what, they’ve probably fallen down by me goji berries.”   
  
“No! I cannae seem to find anything!”   
  
“No? Oh, I can’t help you, then, love.”  
  
“Are you sure they’re in there?” Hamish asks  
  
“Course they’re not! What’s the matter with you? What do you think this is, _Saturday Kitchen?”_  
  
“Oh, I love that show. James Martin, don’t get me started.”  
  
“Well, it’s just as well he can cook, cos he dances like he’s shit himself!”  
  
“I’m sorry but his cha-cha-cha was a triumph.”   
  
“What do you know about it? You’re a ghost. And not much of a one, by the looks of you.”  
  
“What’s wrang with the way I look? This is Giorgio Armani.”   
  
“I don’t care if it’s George at Asda, that ain’t what a ghost is supposed to wear.”  
  
“I’m the ghost of Christmas Present. I’m up-to-the-minute. Constantly changing, ever-evolving, yet always on trend. Unstructured, yet tailored. Clean lines, sharp silhouette, but with a whiff of the shambolic rock star. Do not criticise the clobber.”   
  
“Ohh… You couldn’t be bothered, could you? Nah. That other fella, I had here before. Oh, smashing, he was. Yeah, he looked the part, see. He was all done up in his costume. Lovely, pale face. And what a stench! He stank like a rancid old arse. Whereas you, you smell like… (SNIFFS) God, what is that?”   
  
“That’s Paul Smith Summer.” Hamish holds put his wrist  
  
“You’re very effeminate for a ghost.”  
  
“Hey, don’t play your games with me, Joanie Taylor, all right? You think your snide wee remarks are gonna get a rise out of me, you’ve another thing coming. It’s wake-up time, OK? Because the things I’m gonna show you tonight will leave you horrified by what you’ve become. And just for the record, there is nothing effeminate about me, OK? “  
  
(DING!)  
  
“Ooh, risotto, risotto, risotto!” Hamish runs off to the kitchen. “Oh no! I’ve burnt it.”  
  
“Yeah, well, you know, risottos are notoriously difficult to time.”  
  
“Joanie.”  
  
“Yeah, all right, keep your skinny jeans on. This ain’t my kitchen!”  
  
\---  
  
 _…Number 12. The third ball out…number 44_  
  
“ We’ve got 43.” an old lady says  
  
 _The fourth ball … number 27._  
  
“Oh, Well. Never mind. There’s always next week.”  
  
“Very unlikely. The odds are stacked right against ‘em.” Nan says  
  
“Especially with you as treasurer of the syndicate, hm?”  
  
“Now, are we finished? Cos I’ve had just about enough of all this.”  
  
“‘Fraid not. There’s one more family I’d like you to see.”  
  
Nan sighs, “When am I gonna get some risotto?”  
  
They arrive at a bus depot.  
  
“ The family who travelled hundreds of miles to spend Christmas with you. The family you threw oot. The family who are spending their Christmas in a coach depot, waiting for a ride home that is never going to come.”   
  
“I’m hungry, Mummy.”  
  
“I’m cold.”  
  
“Oh, look, our Timmy’s starving.”  
  
“Oi, you lot! They only do these at Christmas. Roast turkey and stuffing-flavoured crisps!”   
  
(WHOOPS OF DELIGHT)  
  
“Thanks!”  
  
“I love you, Bob Cratchit.”  
  
“Don’t forget our Tim.”  
  
“Merry Christmas, everyone!”  
  
“Merry Christmas!”  
  
(TINY TIM CHOKES AND WHINES)  
  
“It’s our Tim. He’s got a crisp stuck. It’s killed him. Our Tim’s dead.”  
  
“He’s just sleeping off his lunch.”  
  
“Everything I’ve shown you is a consequence of your actions. You caused this. You killed Tiny Tim.”   
  
(BELL CHIMES)  
  
“Right, Joanie, Joan, Joanie, that’s me away.”   
  
“What, you going?”  
  
“ I’ve given it my best shot, but you’re a pain in the arse. So you are. I’m away to update my status on Facebook. “The Ghost of Christmas Present is just aboot ready for bed after another exhausting day’s haunting”  
  
“Well, what about me?”  
  
“As you know, you’ve one more visitation to come. And … I’m sorry to say, he’s the worst. I don’t mean to scare you, but at the same time, best you know. Bottom line, he’s a nutter. Goodbye, Joanie Taylor. I hope you’ve learnt your lesson. A wee part of me is gonna miss you.”   
  
“Don’t worry, love. You can always follow me on Twitter”  
  
“Tatty-bye.”  
  
“Can I use my pass?”  
  


**THE END**


End file.
